


Verge

by pocket_cheese



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Bruises, Cancer, Chemotherapy, Chronic Illness, Hurt/Comfort, I can't help myself, Leukemia, M/M, Medical Jargon, Rating May Change, Recovery, Someone please stop me using medical terms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-22 21:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6094966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocket_cheese/pseuds/pocket_cheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Two gashes, Shizu-chan. Two measly gashes for every time you stood on my chest.<br/>That's hardly fair payment now, is it?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Woeful Presentiment

“You know, Izaya-kun, this is the third course of antibiotics you’ve had in five weeks....it’s as if one wound clears and another gets infected. Have you not been cleaning them properly?”

 

“Of course I have. I’m not stupid, Shinra.”

 

Shinra smiled lightly. “Sometimes I think you are. When are you going to stop getting yourself into trouble?”

 

“Not any time soon.” Izaya smirked and waved his hand in a lazy circle, silver rings glinting in the light. “Trouble makes the world go round! There would be no interesting reactions without the occasional calamity.”

 

“Hmm, that’s debatable.” Shinra finished cleaning and bandaging the large, suppurating gash on Izaya’s left forearm, and wheeled his desk chair closer to the opposite side, taking Izaya’s right hand in his own to examine the grazed knuckles. “These are badly bruised - did you punch Shizuo-kun in the chest? Ahh, but then I suppose you’d have a broken wrist too…” He carefully probed the bruised flesh surrounding the ulna, causing Izaya to flinch.

 

“Is this really necessary?”

 

Shinra ignored him and turned Izaya’s wrist over, prodding the inner side with his fingertips. “Badly bruised,” he mumbled to himself “but not fractured, so it can’t have been Shizuo-kun…”

 

“Shinra.” Izaya repeated, more firmly this time.

 

“Okay, okay, done! I’ll get those antibiotics for you...and I think that it’d be a good idea to run a blood test as a precaution. It’s unusual for you to be getting so many infections if you’ve cleaned your wounds as you say.” Shinra turned his back to Izaya, rooting through cupboards for the required medication.

 

“Haha, are you sure the blood you want to take isn’t for one of your experiments? For all I know, you’re developing a way of turning people into cats, or of making them fall in love at first sight!” Izaya laughed and stood up from the designated inspection chair, waiting expectantly for Shinra to hand him the bottle of pills.

 

“Ahh, thanks for the ideas! No need to worry though, I can assure you that your blood is of little interest to me when I have acquaintances like Shizuo-kun. Just think, somebody who can lift vending machines and cars _must_ have a special quality to their blood - perhaps Shizuo-kun’s body manufactures an extra protein that normal human beings don’t have, leading to the increased strength and flexibility of his muscles? Even bodybuilders and weightlifters can’t lift the same amount as him without suffering damage; the muscle tissues scars, and the resulting scar tissue is weaker and less elastic. Regardless of Shizuo-kun’s lack of a natural limiter, his abilities are-”

 

“I thought we’d established long ago that Shizu-chan is a monster, Shinra. I have other things to do today, and none of those include listening to your analysis of his beast-like ‘abilities’; I’d appreciate it if you just gave me the antibiotics so that I can leave.” Izaya held out his hand calmly, his signature smirk betraying his conviction that Shinra would do as requested, but Shinra only slipped the bottle into his lab coat pocket, a smirk to challenge Izaya’s (albeit more mocking) spreading across his face.

 

“Hmm, you seem awfully desperate to get out of this blood test, Izaya-kun. Now that I think about it, I only recall giving you one once. Don’t tell me that you’re afraid of needles?”

 

“Considering the fact that I’ve had knife and bullet wounds before, a needle hardly fazes me.” Izaya responded flatly, his smile dropping.

 

“I need to ask you a few questions before you leave, so you may as well take a seat, Izaya-kun.”

 

Izaya let his arm fall to his side and slumped back down onto the chair irritably, an eyebrow raised suspiciously.

 

“How is your health in general?”

 

“Same as ever. What is this, an interrogation?”

 

Shinra regarded Izaya’s slight form with pursed lips before resuming his position in the desk chair opposite.

 

“You know, Izaya-kun, if you aren’t honest about your health and ignore symptoms so persistently, it’ll catch up on you one day. It isn’t a sign of weakness to be ill every now and again. I can tell you’ve left some of these injuries infected for a few days before coming to see me. You need to start taking responsibility for your health, before you end up with septicemia.”

 

Izaya, who had been paying more attention to what was going on outside through the window than to what Shinra had been saying snapped his head back in surprise. It wasn’t often that Shinra spoke to him in such a firm tone.

 

Shinra sighed exasperatedly. “And you’ve clearly lost weight. Have you not been eating properly?”

 

“I’ve been busy with work, there’s not always time to stop and cook when I’ve got meetings to attend and humans to see.”

 

Shinra wanted to believe him, knowing of Izaya’s fixational attitude towards his work, but something about the way in which Izaya averted his eyes left him feeling uneasy.

 

“That’s a poor excuse Izaya-kun, and you know it. You’ve not let that stop you from eating out before, and doesn't Yagiri-san cook for you if you're too busy to do it yourself? You wouldn’t have lost this much weight if you were eating properly.”

 

Izaya looked back at Shinra, the daggers that he was glaring only serving to prove how much he hated Shinra seeing straight through him. Most people who knew or had heard of the Informant’s formidable reputation would feel incredibly uncomfortable under the heat of his piercing gaze, but Shinra was different. He knew Izaya well enough to know that his true emotions only ever leaked through when he was afraid.

 

Taking a deep, calming breath, he couldn’t help but adopt a softer tone, one that he knew would do little to achieve its goal of coaxing Izaya to divulge information about himself that wasn’t predominated by his supposed ‘love’ of humans.

 

All in all, a small part of Shinra pitied Izaya. It pitied his inability to open up to anybody, even if doing so was something that Izaya claimed he didn’t want or need. He pitied Izaya’s perspective that it was something that he didn’t need in the first place: that he saw having somebody to confide in as a weakness. It wasn't necessarily because Izaya believed himself to be above people. It was more along the lines of him believing that he was strong enough not to fall folly to burdensome emotions that necessitated discussion. Doing so would, after all, divert his attention from observing the reactions of other people, and being too invested in his own reactions to situations would destroy his stance as an observer. It was this that Shinra pitied most of all, because at times like this, it caused Izaya to run away. And Shinra knew that attempting to escape from yourself by running from others was ineffective. He had seen Izaya do it too many times.

 

Finally, Izaya broke eye contact, though the harsh glint remained even as he traced the swirling green pattern in the rug.

 

“What’s it to you?”

 

“I’m your doctor, that’s what. It’s my job to notice changes in your health.”

 

An uncomfortable shuffle. A silent admittance.

 

“I'm fine. I just haven’t been as hungry as usual.”

 

“Do you think that there’s a particular reason for this?”

 

“I don’t know. All I know is that I haven’t been, and clearly, eating without an appetite isn't a particularly favourable course of action.”

 

“Have there been any other symptoms?”

 

“No.”

 

“Okay. Let’s get this blood test done. It’ll only take a minute.”

 

Izaya rolled up his sleeve reluctantly. He was drained, and didn’t have the energy to keep arguing with Shinra. The further his sleeve came up, the more bruises were revealed. Violet, plum, grey mottled with acidic yellow...an artist’s imprint of tiny galaxies. Shinra could count eight up to Izaya’s mid bicep, where a particularly large bruise engulfed the entire crook of his elbow. Izaya’s eyes flittered to Shinra’s, observing his reaction.

 

“Ecchymoses.” Shinra muttered.

 

“What?”

 

“Signs of bleeding under the skin. Is your skin like this anywhere else?”

 

Izaya paused, recalling when he had first seen them in his mirror two weeks ago. _Like he'd been shot continuously with a paintball gun._ He’d brushed it off, as he usually did with injuries that he didn’t deem life threatening. They were just bruises. They’d go away on their own. _(But they didn’t hurt, and aside from one or two, the others had appeared as uninvited guests, seemingly manifesting without a tangible cause.)_

 

“There’s some on my legs too.” He confessed finally. “Shizu-chan really is a-”

 

“Izaya-kun. I know that Shizuo-kun didn’t cause these.”

 

_The tension in the room is accelerating at a speed of approximately 80mph. At this velocity, the destination will soon be reached, and the whole universe will change._

 

“I’m going to have to take the blood from the dorsal venous arch in your hand, the bleeding is too severe to take it from the median cubital vein.”

 

Shinra retrieved the necessary equipment from a medical cupboard while Izaya looked on.

 

_Detach. Then it won’t hurt._

 

He knew. He knew what it might be.

 

Shinra returned and swabbed the vein before tapping it a few times.

 

“Sharp scratch.”

 

“Did you really need to tell me that?”

 

It was difficult to regain his usual composure when he was panicking so much inside. The bruises, the infections, the inexplicable heavy sweating, energy loss, _the nosebleeds_...

 

“Izaya-kun?” Shinra looked at him curiously. “I’ve finished now. You’ve gone very pale - do you need to lie down?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“I’ll get you a glass of juice.”

 

Izaya felt a cold glass being pressed into his palm. _It couldn’t be…_

 

He was zoning out again.

 

“I’ve got you some biscuits too. Your blood sugar is probably a little on the low side if you haven’t been eating adequately, or at all. You should try and have them.” Shinra touched Izaya’s shoulder, who tried to ignore the spiralling feeling of dizziness as he raised his head.

 

“It makes me feel nauseous.”

 

He had intended to sound apathetic, but instead his voice came out on the verge of cracking. A crumpled paper message floating on water, in danger of sinking at any moment.

 

_‘I know I’m not well.'_

 

“Try to have some of the juice then, hmm?”

 

Raising the glass steadily, steadily, he drank a few sips before setting it at the foot of the chair.

 

“I’m going to get Celty to take these to the hospital for analysis. I’ve marked them as urgent, which should reduce the waiting time to about an hour or two. Somebody in the hospital owes me a favour, so he'll make sure that they're dealt with promptly. I think that it’d be best if you stayed here until then. It’s better safe than sorry, hey?”

 

“Is it that serious?”

 

Shinra paused, wondering how to tell Izaya that yes, he did think it was serious. “Well, if it’s a platelet disorder there’s an increased risk of internal bleeding, so it’d be important to get you seen to straight away.”

 

“Could it be…”

 

The strain was evident. Shinra’s face was taut with worry, Izaya’s sickly and drawn.

 

“You look tired. Why don’t you rest for a bit until we get the results?”

 

He wanted to deny the fact that he desperately needed rest, but denying it meant sitting in the same room as Shinra, and he didn't think he could bear it anymore. So instead, he nodded mutely and followed Shinra into the guestroom. He waited until Shinra had left the room to move soundlessly into the bathroom. He didn’t look at himself in the mirror until he saw a drop of blood fall onto the white tiled floor. His sixth nosebleed in three weeks, and it wasn’t even because he had seen somebody attractive. Prior to this, he’d only ever had a nosebleed if somebody had punched him in the face, which (as you can imagine for a Parkour expert) didn’t happen very often.

 

What had he done wrong?

 

He could think of lots of things that he had done wrong - a wealth of things, but who was to say what is truly right and wrong when the sliding scales of morality are a social construct?

 

Did being what his fellow humans considered to be a ‘bad’ person mean that he deserved to suffer?

 

Some would say that it was his body’s way of punishing him for using the form that God had created to stir chaos in the world, but Izaya couldn’t help but think back to the people on the suicide forum. Bored, unhappy, delusional people, a smattering of _terminally ill people_ …

 

Largely good people.

 

Was it wrong to want to escape your lot?

 

******

 

Shinra handed the container carrying the blood samples to Celty gravely.

 

“I need you to take these to the hospital for me. Please direct them to Saito Shunsuke on the Medical Assessment Unit - he’s already expecting you. I’m sorry to spring this on you, my darling, but it’s important that it’s done now.”

 

At the age of 25, Shinra didn’t have the slightest hint of a crease on his forehead. Really, Celty found the miracles of human aging quite fascinating. People just a few years older than Shinra and bordering thirty could have grey hairs and the preliminary signs of aging: the subtle beginnings of crow’s feet, or lines on the forehead when it isn’t tensed. These were not as common in Japan as in some other countries at what Celty considered to be such an early age, but she still found it intriguing. Why did these signs come about when people could live three times the length of thirty years, or even more? Celty believed that there was most likely a correlation between people who experienced high levels of stress and anxiety in their teenage years and twenties and those who developed these signs sooner. It would, after all, make sense that people who frowned a lot and furrowed their brows would be more susceptible to aging faster. In Shinra's case, his habit of being somewhat overbearing was counteracted by his good nature and adaptability. Celty would never consider Shinra to be an intense or stressed person, despite knowing that Shinra could rival Izaya's intense, calculating manipulation. Yet now she could sense an aura of change, and the current expression on Shinra's face, an image of agitated grief consolidated by turbulent grey eyes, inspired an unsettling feeling of change. Celty had a feeling that this expression was here to stay.

 

[Shinra, what’s going on?]

 

“Orihara-kun is sick.”

 

His voice was blank, as though all of the emotion had been stripped from it. It was in such stark contrast to his face that Celty found the scene to be overwhelmingly discordant. Here they were, standing in the doorway to their home on a bright sunny day, and there she was carrying a container holding what she now knew could only contain bad news.

 

[What’s wrong with him?]

 

“I'm not sure yet, but I think it's...” Shinra raised his eyes so that they were level with where Celty's would be. She could tell that it was choking him. Shinra, the overly emotional fool that he was when it came to her, but rarely to another, had tears in his eyes for none other than Orihara Izaya.

 

"I think it's-"


	2. A Failed Exercise in Neutrality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EDITED 06/03/2016
> 
> "If this is what I think it is, I’m going to have to be there for him. He doesn’t have anybody else.” 
> 
> [If he’ll let you.]
> 
> “Yes. If he’ll let me. I can only try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference notes:
> 
> Haemoglobin: a protein found in the red blood cells that carries oxygen around the body. In patients with leukaemia, the bone marrow becomes crowded with abnormal white blood cells, meaning that less red blood cells and platelets are produced. A reduced amount of red blood cells means a reduced amount of haemoglobin, resulting in anaemia. People with anaemia often experience shortness of breath, lethargy, and heart palpitations. They also have a pale complexion. 
> 
> Platelets: A component of the blood whose main function is to help wounds heal and prevent bleeding. A decreased platelet count is called thrombocytopenia, leading to bruises, bleeding in the tissues and slow clotting following injury.
> 
> Neutrophils: In healthy blood myeloid stem cells become white blood cells called monocytes or granulocytes (neutrophils). These are important for fighting off infection. In people with Acute Myeloid Leukaemia, the myeloid stem cells produce too many abnormal monocytes and granulocytes. A Low level of healthy neutrophils is called neutropenia, which leads to an increased susceptibility to infection.

The sink resembled a sacrificial altar, blood blooming like poinsettias through the crumpled toilet paper piled high in the basin. Izaya watched as white gave way to red without feeling much at all, as though it wasn’t his blood creeping to the edges, and his nose wasn’t still bleeding. He was vaguely reminded of drawing dots of ink on chromatography paper. Shizu-chan’s face had been so laughable when he realized that Izaya had sabotaged his experiment, colouring over every one of Shizuo’s carefully drawn ink blots with a red felt tip...

There had been broken glass and blood, and water pooling on the cream worktops and wooden floor. There was something particularly satisfying about watching droplets of his own blood spread through water that day. Nothing serious, just a few minor cuts from the glass that Shizuo had broken. Izaya had pocketed a large shard whilst everyone was still reeling from the noise, prepared to use it as a weapon even if it cut his hand open. Shizuo had been made to spend the rest of the day in seclusion, but he’d waited for Izaya after school, and the chase had begun as usual.

There was something indescribably liberating about feeling your feet hammer against the pavement, the faces of passers’-by a fantastically abstract blur of colour and light. That wasn’t it though. The surroundings were just a fragment of the experience, a minuscule fraction of the whole equation. He could be anywhere in the world - the most desolate of Arctic, or a mere speck against the Aurora Borealis, and he was sure his heart would pound the same. It was the feeling of that teenage _boy_ , that grown _man_ barrelling after him: the sickening, giddy surge of adrenaline as vending machines and signposts and all manner of objects came hurtling his way. For somebody who was terrified of non-existence, flirting with death had never felt better.

The view in front of him, however, was sickening. He followed the pattern of bruises on his outstretched arm to the swollen knuckles gripping the edge of the sink (so many bruises now he may as well be a dalmatian, or at least he was on his way there), and the sink itself…  
It took three rounds of depositing the contents of the basin into the toilet, and three individual flushes to eradicate the evidence. His face was still stained, and even after dunking his head underwater and holding his breath it remained, though this time in the paleness of his face and prominence of his cheekbones. _And in his eyes. But he wouldn’t admit that._

It didn’t feel good now. Not this knowledge that something was going on with his body that he didn’t have any control over. He could provoke Shizu-chan all he wanted, because he could always run away. And now…

He laughed bitterly. All this talk of death, and for all he knew it could be something minor and easily treatable. Walking into Shinra’s guestroom with a quick glance back at the bathroom, the weight of the phone in his pocket said differently, an uncomfortable reminder of the list of syndromes and diseases in his search history. He had worked through them systematically, crossing out possibilities and circling others late into the evening. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he didn’t even need to check his phone to remember the list. Von Willebrand disease: easily treatable, but an impossibility. He would surely have known by now if he’d had it since birth, especially with his track record of severe injuries necessitating surgery. Idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura, or Immune thrombocytopenic purpura: serious if left untreated, possibly resulting in intracranial hemorrhage, but highly unlikely. He hadn’t had a viral infection recently, or taken any medication that could possibly have induced an allergic reaction. Myelodysplastic syndrome: a disease primarily affecting older people, therefore unlikely. Requiring an allogenic bone marrow transplantation for a complete cure. Leukaemia, perhaps the most unpleasant on the list. _And the most probable._ Prognoses vary depending on the type, as well as the age and general health of the patient.

Falling back onto the bed, he stared at the ceiling warily. The digital clock on the bedside table indicated that it had been approximately 48 minutes since Shinra had left him to rest and had gone to speak to his headless monster. He wondered if he should just go - return to his apartment, continue screwing people over and pretend that none of this had ever happened. He really did feel like messing something up for Shizu-chan. How somebody so _ill-tempered_ , and _irrational,_ and _nonsensically aggressive_ could maintain a troupe of mindless followers, regardless of his circumstances, was beyond him. How somebody _like_ Shizu-chan could come into his mind at a moment like this was equally perplexing, if not highly irritating. He clenched his fist and felt the sting of damaged skin stretching over bone. _If only Shinra knew_.

****

The step outside was rather uncomfortable, Shinra decided. It was a place that he had never found himself sat before, similarly to how he had never found himself anticipating a phone call from an acquaintance of sorts, about a friend of sorts who may or may not be seriously ill. Shinra considered himself to be a largely flexible person. Perhaps not physically, but he was certainly a person with a great aptitude for mental adaptability. It was essential, being an underground doctor and all. He couldn’t predict when he would receive a phone call from the Awakusu-kai regarding an injured henchman, or when Shizuo or Izaya would turn up on his doorstep in need of medical care. Some people would call it professionalism, but Shinra’s ability to switch off his usual chatty and enthusiastic demeanor in exchange for one of complete focus and leadership in such an incredibly short timescale was a quality that few people could claim to have.

Shinra was a man of many words, and he rarely found himself unable to complete a sentence. After all, he had learnt that praising Celty too much, especially amongst company, resulted in being muzzled by her shadows. It didn’t make it any easier for him to desist, but if it made Celty feel more comfortable, of course he would do as she wished. Now he really was struggling for words, and there were no shadows stopping him from speaking. Celty had left approximately thirty five minutes ago, but Shinra found himself unable to go back inside and face Izaya. If it had been so agonizingly difficult to choke out the word in front of Celty, how could he bring himself to answer Izaya’s questions?

_“I think it’s…” Shinra took a deep breath and grimaced before wrapping his arms around Celty and pulling her closer, Celty almost dropping the container in the process. He relished the comfort that he found in burying his face into the blackness of her catsuit, wishing that he could stay there until this whole situation had gone away - but it wasn’t to last. Celty pulled away, setting the container on the floor carefully, and Shinra looked at her with the desperate eyes of a man on death row before slumping onto the doorstep._

_“I don’t know what to say to him. He’s bound to ask me questions if I go back inside. I mean, I don’t know for sure that that’s what it is, but from the symptoms so far….” He pressed a hand to his forehead, brow creasing with stress. “I don’t even know how long this has been going on for. He might seem like a forthcoming person when he’s talking about himself, but he’s actually very tactful. He never gives anything useful away.”_

_[That’s because he doesn’t want to expose any weak points. If he gives too much personal information away, people can use it against him. You should try talking to him, Shinra. This is about his health - he’ll have to tell you what you want to know if he wants to look out for himself.]_

_“I’ve never had to do this before, Celty. I may not be licensed, but I’m more of a surgeon than a GP. It’s always been a matter of finding the source of the problem and fixing it, without any of the feeling involved...but Orihara-kun is my friend. I can’t be neutral about this.”_

_[This isn’t any different to when you’re removing bullets from him or stitching him up. It might feel different, Shinra, but it’s not. You still have to be there for him emotionally when he’s in a lot of pain.]_

_Shinra groaned miserably, reluctant to contradict her. “Perhaps for other people, my darling, but not for Orihara-kun. He finds situations like that_ funny _! He can go on and on about how wonderfully surprising humans are, and how whoever injured him has exceeded his expectations magnificently. It’s easy enough because I don’t need to do anything other than fix him up, but if this is what I think it is, I’m going to have to be there for him. He doesn’t have anybody else.”_

_[If he’ll let you.]_

_“Yes. If he’ll let me. I can only try.”_

_[You’re doing your best for him, Shinra. It’s up to him to decide whether or not he’ll accept your help, and you’re not to blame if he chooses not to.]_

_“No,” Shinra replied grimly “I suppose I’m not.”_

****

Knocking on the door to the guestroom Shinra waited anxiously for Izaya to open it, inwardly chastising himself for allowing two symptoms to propel him into such a state of despair. A good doctor wouldn’t do this. A good doctor would find out more information before being sucked into a void of life-threatening possibilities. Izaya opened the door, face flushed and his hair dishevelled and damp. His clothes were sticking to him uncomfortably with the sweat forming on his skin, and he knew that Shinra was analyzing his appearance.

  
“Would you like a cup of tea, Izaya-kun?”

  
“No thank you. I told you that I need to be going.”

  
“I know - sorry about that. There shouldn’t be much longer to wait now.”

  
“Are you feeling guilty about something, Shinra? It’s not like you to apologize for no reason.” Izaya smirked, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded.

“Of course not. I just sympathize with this interruption to your busy schedule. Now, whether you’d like tea or not, I need to do some physical checks: your blood pressure and weight etc, so if you’d come with me please we can get that over and done with.”

Izaya narrowed his eyes, never breaking his posture. Shinra could see that he was trying to act relaxed, but the minute movement of Izaya’s fingers tensing in the fabric of his shirt revealed that he felt otherwise.  
  
  
“And why is that necessary? Was the blood test not enough?”

“Always with the questions, Izaya-kun. Can’t you accept that I’m trying to help you and do as I ask for once?”

Izaya grinned. “But that’d make it easy.”

“Yes, for both of us. You already know that these checks are standard procedure to help me to diagnose you properly. Now come on.” Shinra moved aside, gesturing towards the living room, and with a defeated sigh, Izaya led the way. Taking a seat on the desk chair, Shinra pulled out the blood pressure monitor and wrapped the cuff around Izaya’s left arm, mindful of the bandages spanning his forearm. Izaya's veins became starkly visible as the cuff began to inflate. It was laughable really, how what ran within these insignificant, tiny green-blue things contained the answers to so many of their questions.

“Blood pressure is fine.” He pulled off the cuff and put a fresh cap on an ear thermometer before placing it in Izaya’s ear. Izaya tapped his foot impatiently, wondering why he hadn’t left earlier while he had the chance. The conflicted feelings of something being seriously wrong versus it being nothing at all were currently weighing in the direction of the latter, denial at its finest as the need to get away became paramount. The prospect of being poked and prodded until Shinra was satisfied for him to leave was entirely disagreeable, and an avoidable hindrance to his schedule.

“Your temperature is elevated, probably due to the infection. Make sure you drink plenty of water, and get some proper rest when you get home. Keep an eye on those injuries, and if they get any worse, you need to tell me, okay? Now let’s see about your weight.”

Pulling the scales out from the lower desk drawer, Shinra placed them on the floor beside Izaya. Izaya stood up slowly, eyeing the scales as though they had personally offended him.

“I fail to see how this is ‘standard procedure’, Shinra. You’ve never been interested in my weight before.”

Shinra bent down to flick the switch from pounds to kilograms. “That’s because I know that you weigh yourself regularly, and work to keep it the same. Going by how your clothes fit, I'd say that you've lost a fair amount recently, and it' be a good idea to keep track of it.”

Izaya rolled his eyes but stepped onto the scales reluctantly.   
  
  
"I did say that I haven't been eating as much. It's only natural for me to have lost some."  
  
_51kg._

Shinra frowned, scrawling the number on the piece of paper that he’d wrote Izaya’s blood pressure on.

“What are you usually?”

“58, give or take a kilogram.”

“That’s a lot to lose. Over what sort of timescale has this happened?”

“About three weeks.”  
  
  
“And is that when the bruises came about, three weeks ago?”

“No, that was two weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you show them to me then?”

Izaya shrugged guardedly. “I assumed that they’d go away on their own.”

“And you didn’t think that after them being there for a week, and with the number increasing, that it’d be a good idea to talk to a professional about it?”

Izaya looked at Shinra harshly, entirely unappreciative of his criticism.

  
“I didn’t deem it be especially bothersome.”

The two maintained eye contact, cold aggravation meeting hurt exasperation, only to be broken by Shinra's phone ringing.  He took it as a welcome opportunity to leave the room without a second glance.

“Hello?”

“Kishitani-sensei. It’s Saito Shunsuke. I’ve received the results back from the blood sample that you requested. I asked the labs to do a peripheral blood smear to speed things up based on the extent of the symptoms that you described to us.”

“Excellent. I always knew that I could count on your intuition.”

There was a small pause, in which Shinra could imagine Shunsuke nodding down the phone, preparing to deliver what was undoubtedly bad news.   
  
  
“I’m afraid to tell you that it’s not good news. The results show a neutrophil count of <1,000/uL, indicative of neutropenia. The platelet count shows evidence of thrombocytopenia, which would explain the bruising, and the haemoglobin level is 5.1g/dL. Levels of ferritin are elevated, and there's also evidence of immature white blood cells in the blood stream. I’ve booked your patient in for a bone marrow examination tomorrow, which, as you know, will involve a biopsy and aspiration to confirm the diagnosis. I’ll send you an email with the details later. In the meantime, I’d suggest keeping the patient in overnight in case there are any complications.”

Air wasn't coming to him as easily as before, and he had to remind himself to breathe. Immature white blood cells in the bloodstream. Neutropenia. Thrombocytopenia. Anaemia.

This wasn’t looking good.

Coughing slightly, he forced himself to acknowledge the man waiting on the other end of the line.

“Thank you for your assistance, Saito-sensei. You’ve been a great help.”

Ending the call, Shinra returned to the living room in a daze, taking in the image of Izaya, with his most probably leukaemic blood, gazing idly out of the window.

“Izaya-kun, I’ve had your results back.”

“Oh, and how are they?” Izaya turned to Shinra indifferently, the strained, serious expression on Shinra’s face telling him all that he needed to know.

“The results show that you’ve got a low level of neutrophils, platelets and haemoglobin, which explains the bruises and why your body isn’t able to fight off infection properly, even with antibiotics. Your blood isn’t clotting as it should due to the low level of platelets, and the haemoglobin count indicates anaemia. The acquaintance of mine who sorted out the blood analysis has managed to book you in for a bone marrow examination tomorrow. I can come with you if you like.” Shinra spoke softly, quietly, but it didn’t stop the words from being harsh enough to make the silence reverberate.

Izaya's face didn't give anything away, but Shinra noted the slight curl of his lips at his suggestion.   
  
  
"Pfft. I don't need you to baby me, Shinra."  
  
  
"I'm not trying to. I was thinking of it as a practicality in case they use sedation - you'd need somebody to accompany you home." Shinra lied.  
  
  
"In that case, I'm surprised that you didn't suggest sending Celty instead. She's the one with the bike, after all. Anyway, it won't be necessary. You know that I'm averse to narcotics."  
  
  
"We'll discuss it tomorrow. At the very least, I'd like you to stay here overnight. As you are now, you're at risk of complications. Once we find out the results tomorrow we can decide on a course of treatment. It's most likely going to involve blood transfusions, so we'll have to discuss whether or not you'd rather have your treatment here or at the hospital."  
  
Izaya fell silent, tapping his fingers against the window ledge rhythmically.   
  
  
"Did you manage to cancel your arrangements for this evening?"  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
"Okay. I'm sure you'd prefer to have your own stuff whilst you're here, so I'll ask Celty to drop you at home to collect some stuff. You don't want to be fighting Shizuo-kun right now."

 

                                                                                                                     ******  
  
Sitting on the bed that night, Izaya attempted to collate a report for Shiki-san. It was difficult when he was driven to such distraction. Instead of his own condition, all he could think about was hypothetical situations involving Shizu-chan in a state of ill health.  
  
  
What would have happened if Shizu-chan had been left comatose and brain damaged when Izaya had set up the hit and run? He could imagine it now, Tom and Celty holding a bedside vigil, Tom crying quietly and Celty clutching Shizuo’s hand regardless of Shinra’s pained expression (he would, of course, permit it for a while, but as the weeks stretched on with no sign of improvement, he would become increasingly disillusioned at Shizuo's invincibility, his heart twisting painfully at his lover's refusal to let go). Kasuka would take time off filming to sit motionlessly, expressionlessly, at Shizuo's bedside, while his own sisters would bring little gifts that Shizuo couldn't see (although their continued presence was mostly motivated by the possibility of seeing Hanejima Yuuhei.)

Imagining it in reverse, Izaya was sure that the only person who would come to see him would be Shinra, and, after a while, even Shinra would go away. Smiling, he traced the grazes on his knuckles.  
  
  
_Everybody dies eventually. [But not everybody dies alone.]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading - I really appreciate the comments left on the first chapter, and I'd love to know any thoughts you might have on this one (it really motivates me). I apologize for the slight delay, it's taken a lot of research to produce this chapter, and I'd rather spend a little longer to make it as accurate as possible than publish without double checking! :) The main sources that I have used are Cancer Research UK, Macmillan.org and the NHS webpages.


	3. A Fragile Heart and a Terrible Personality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The blade hadn't quite followed the same trajectory as that first memorable knife wound, but he could see through the hole in Shizu-chan's shirt that the new mark overlapped with the old. 
> 
> _Excellent._ "

“Okay, we’re ready now Orihara-san. You just need to lie on your side, please.”

_His client wasn’t happy, that much he knew. Without making eye contact Izaya could tell that the man was angry - furious perhaps. It was harder to read him when his eyes were concealed by noxious purple sunglasses, the light a burning beam reflecting uncomfortably onto Izaya’s skin, but his jaw was tense, and his teeth undoubtedly clenched together. Squinting did nothing to help decipher the man’s features as they continued to morph like molten lava._

 

 _It was hot, too hot. The air hung unbearably thick and heavy, swallowing him in a fiery deluge. He opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, but his throat was painfully dry, as though the unbearable heat had sucked all of the moisture out of his body and added it to the oppressive clouds of tar._ _He could hear the words in his head - his own mocking tone as he told the man, as though reprimanding a child, that he was unable to do anything to redeem himself if the man refused to tell him_ why _he was so dissatisfied with Izaya’s services in the first place... but nothing came out. The atmosphere was making him feel nauseated. His fingers itched to grab the glass of water on the table in front of him, but it was an impossibility when the simple act of wiping clammy palms on his jeans was about as comfortable as grating broken nails over sandpaper. Eyeing the man’s increasingly feral expression, he did what he did best when he was without his voice and without a weapon: he smiled._

 

Local anaesthetic, followed by sharp pain as the needle broke the skin and drove into his flesh. A twisting sensation as it was forced to breach the bone beneath. He focused on the pain and smiled (they were too busy jamming needles into his hipbone to notice), because despite it all, this hurt less than the sickening rush of blood from his brain when he sat up too quickly, sweating and tangled in borrowed sheets. It hurt less than peeling a damp cloth from his forehead and seeing his laptop folded away neatly [and it certainly hurt less than the list on the bedside table, revealing that Shinra had been in the room every few hours to check his temperature]. It was all so horribly predictable it made him sick.

 

_Even in his dreams humans were predictable. Like many others before him, the final thread had snapped when the man saw him smiling, and the next thing he knew, somebody was standing on his chest. The heel of the sole came down hard on his sternum, and Izaya choked, but continued to smile. The man stamped and stamped, and Izaya coughed and choked and…_

_blond hair came into view, the soft strands blazing golden orange. Sunglasses of that same noxious purple fell from the man’s face with the momentum of his vicious attack, shards of glass embedding into Izaya’s torso. He mouthed the man’s name, praying, pleading, but again, the voice resounded only in his head. The humiliation came with the fact that the vile metallic taste in his mouth was more pleasant than the words he’d tried to vocalize:_

 

_“Shizuo, please…”_

 

It didn’t matter who he was with at the beginning of his dream, because in the end it was always Shizu-chan. Shizu-chan beating him, drowning him, setting him alight…Shizu-chan tossing him in front of the very same truck Izaya had ordered to hit him all those years ago...the situation was irrelevant. His teeth could fall out, his hair thin and skin turn to paper, yet nothing could possibly be worse than the utter shame inspired by begging the monster to listen to him.

 

In his dreams he was unafraid of Shizu-chan killing him. What had him waking up, anxiety roiling (and it was all so pathetically, disgustingly human), was the futility of his actions as he desperately tried to communicate _something_ to Shizu-chan, but failed again and again. Whether it was Shizu-chan pushing his face into the earth, smoke filling his lungs or seawater engulfing him, the worst part, the most agonizing part, was watching as his words transformed into streams of evanescent bubbles. This time, his words had been stunted by Shizu-chan crushing his chest [, but perhaps he had been doing that all along…]

 

“Okay, excellent. We’ve finished now, Orihara-san - you can sit up. Now, I’m not sure if it’s been explained to you by your doctor, but it’s been decided that you should have a blood transfusion today due to the frequency of your nosebleeds. It’s not something that we would feel comfortable leaving until we get the results from your bone marrow aspiration and biopsy in two days, because your platelet count is low and the frequent nosebleeds are testimony to that. It can become very dangerous if it drops any further, so we’re going to do something about that today. We’ve already cross-matched your blood from the samples that were provided so that the donor blood is the best match for you, but if you have any concerns you can direct your questions to the person overseeing the transfusion. If you can take a seat in the waiting area, there will be somebody along to collect you. Does that sound okay?”

 

                                                                                                                                    *********

 

“Ten minutes, Celty! I was in the shower for ten minutes, and he left! If he sees Shizuo-kun he’s done for.”

 

[ _It’s not far to the hospital, Shinra, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Shizuo probably has other things to do today.]_

 

“Shizuo-kun never passes on the opportunity to throw things at Izaya-kun, even when he’s busy.” Shinra mumbled miserably, checking his phone for the umpteenth time. “Well, I’ve not had any calls from the hospital or the police yet, so I suppose he must be fine.” He sighed heavily, placing his phone on the armrest. “Ahh, the world would be such a different place if I hadn’t introduced them!”

 

[ _I have a feeling that even if you hadn’t introduced them they’d still have found each other;  Izaya would surely have heard news of Shizuo’s strength and sought him out. Anyway, I don’t think that it’s Shizuo finding Izaya that you need to be worried about…]_

 

“Huh?”

 

[ _Shizuo very rarely seeks Izaya out. It’s mostly the other way around.]_

 

“That’s what worries me the most, my darling. Izaya-kun doesn’t want to acknowledge the severity of his condition, so he’s going to keep acting as though nothing’s wrong, but in reality he’s not in the condition to be fighting with Shizuo-kun at all, and I suspect that he won’t be for some time. If he was injured he’d lose a lot of blood, and then that site would be open to all sorts of infection. His body’s already under a lot of strain with existing infection. Ahh, I wish he’d just text me back!”

 

[ _You sound like a teenager in love.]_

 

The movement of Celty’s shadows told Shinra that she was joking, but he threaded his fingers through hers and played along anyway.

 

“Celty! You know that you’re the only one I love!”

 

[ _Of course I do...but I’ve never seen you so concerned about him before.]_

 

“I’m only worried because if something does happen to Izaya-kun I’ll be left to pick up the pieces, and then I won’t have as much time to give to the one that I love most of all!” Shinra retrieved his phone and rotated it between his fingers thoughtfully. “And he _is_ one of my friends. Kind of.”

 

[ _Kind of?]_

 

“Izaya-kun has a terrible personality, so I can hardly say that I _like_ him, but we have been acquaintances since middle school, and aside from the longevity of our relationship, we have the terrible personality in common.”

 

_[You don’t have a terrible personality.]_

 

“Not for you, my darling! It depends on what you constitute as a horrible personality — are criminals who steal to provide for their families bad people? Or are people who act cruelly towards others bad, if it’s solely a mechanism that they use as a means of self-protection?”

 

_[...]_

 

“You know, Celty, you’ve lived for thousands of years, but I don’t think that that matters. You have a natural ability to judge good and bad without your memories of all of those years of practise.”

 

[ _Shinra...because I lost my memories does that mean that the life I had before amounts to nothing?]_

 

Shinra paused thoughtfully, continuing to stroke Celty’s hand.

 

“You’re here now, and that has significance. As long as you’ve made an impact on other people’s lives, it doesn’t matter. You’ll always exist in some sort of memory.”

 

_[It makes me afraid — not being able to remember. I don’t know the person who I was before, so how can I tell that I was a good person then? It’s frightening. Even if I did make an impact on other people’s lives, I can’t feel it...]_

 

“But surely you can feel the impact that you’ve had on people’s lives since you lost your head? There’s Ryuugamine-kun and Sonohara-san, Shizuo-kun, Izaya-kun and the girl Izaya-kun sent you to save...you’ve helped and influenced so many people, and even if you don’t remember before, you’ve paid penance for any wrongdoing that you might have committed in the past. You know, Celty, humans learn by making mistakes, but you’re so good-natured and kind-hearted that I can’t imagine you ever having done anything wrong!”

 

_[Shinra, I don’t like Izaya, but if his illness is as bad as you say, I don’t think that he deserves it.]_

 

“This is what I mean, Celty!” Shinra gushed excitedly “You see the good in everybody, even if they do terrible things!”

 

_[You were talking about Izaya when you said that some people are cruel to protect themselves, weren’t you?]_

 

“Izaya-kun didn’t always act the way he does now. In middle-school he was a top student, though that’s no surprise given how intelligent he is. He kept himself to himself, and he was a great deal quieter. Despite that, he was well liked amongst his classmates — you could even say that he was popular, but he was more content in watching people than in joining in with them. He received a great deal of invitations to participate, they were incessant in fact, but he liked to watch. He effectively made himself an outsider, but he was fine that way. I think he felt a kind of protection in that. From the outside, he saw how easily the human heart could be damaged and broken, and Izaya-kun has a fragile heart. I’m sure that he was afraid of it being broken. He still is.”

 

_[That doesn’t excuse him manipulating people he doesn’t know.]_

 

“You’re right, it doesn’t. Izaya-kun is incredibly complex. I understand him better than most, but I still don’t have all the answers. Maybe he thinks that the more he is able to understand the way in which people break, the more knowledge he will have to protect himself — but that’s just a speculation.”

 

_[The girl that he sent me to save, Kamichika Rio, he stopped her from killing herself…]_

 

“Precisely. What did he have to gain from doing so? For all I know, it could have been solely to see if she tried to do it again.”

 

_[That’s sick.]_

 

“It might be, but I think it’s true when he says that he loves all humans. He toys with people and provokes them, he offers them false comfort, but in the end he relishes their actions and emotions, and accepts the differences in individual action. It may be an impure form of love, but it exists.”

 

Celty increased her grip on Shinra's hand, showing that she understood. Shinra grinned and nuzzled into Celty’s shoulder.

 

“You always understand what I’m trying to say, Celty.”

 

                                                                                                                                                *********

The idea of borrowed blood dripping into his veins was repulsive, but he wasn’t ready to die yet. Going by the reactions of Shinra and the haematologist performing the bone marrow examination, he had come to accept the idea that there was something wrong with him that would pose a significant threat without treatment, but he didn’t believe that he’d die if he didn’t have the blood transfusion. Not yet. Still, he resisted the urge to toy with the clinicians and allowed them to prod him with needles and fix a cannula in his arm for the transfusion. He watched the seconds on the clock tick by and answered their repeated questions of his name and date of birth and blood type every time they changed one of the transfusion bags, all the while thinking of a means of awakening Celty’s head.

 

[And Shizu-chan.]

 

His dream from the previous night kept coming back to him, Shizu-chan’s brilliant brown eyes blazing with a fury he had never seen before, and the taste in his mouth as he choked out Shizuo’s name. Upon awakening he’d found that a nosebleed had been responsible for the taste, and the terrible heat had been directly caused by ‘febrile neutropenia’. Having tangible causes failed to make him feel any better, not when the crushing feeling in his chest remained [but he wasn’t going to think about that].

The solution was simple. He would go and see Shizu-chan, and really hurt him this time. Being a simplistic beast, it would be easy to find him: Shizu-chan’s schedule didn’t vary much. He worked Mondays to Fridays, and occasionally on Saturdays depending on their caseload. The spreadsheet of addresses that Tanaka Tom and Heiwajima Shizuo had to visit, grouped by area, was easily accessible, and had obviously been created by an imbecile with no knowledge of encryption. And so he waited until the last drop of blood had ran into his veins and they had stopped reeling off the impossibly long list of highly improbable side effects, and he went to find Shizu-chan, ignoring the brightly coloured posters for helplines and support groups on his way out.

Circling the area surrounding Russia-Sushi, Izaya found Shizu-chan exiting Macdonald's with a milkshake in hand, the other thrust casually into his pocket as he listened expressionlessly to whatever drivel his senpai was feeding him. His resemblance to Kasuka was uncanny like this, but unlike Kasuka, Shizu-chan's eyes were alive with a peaceful tranquility soon to be broken. The afternoon sun played across his hair in a way all to reminiscent of his dream, and he found his heart beating faster at the memory of Shizu-chan's foot smashing into his chest.  
  
  
"Shizu-chan, come and get me." He whispered with a smirk. It wouldn't take long for Shizu-chan to detect his presence, it never did. Stupid though he was, his superior sense of smell always led him to Izaya in a matter of minutes. Izaya watched gleefully as Shizuo's face contorted into a slight frown, his grip on the milkshake container increasing until he caught a glimpse of a furry hood entirely inappropriate for the day's weather.

"IZAAAAAYAAAA-KUUNNNNN!!!!" The cup crashed to the ground, banana milkshake flecking Shizuo's trousers and creeping between the cracks in the pavement. Izaya positively beamed, offering Shizu-chan an enthusiastic wave.  
  
  
"Shizu-chan! How coincidental to see you here!" Shizu-chan wasn't running yet, nor was he hurling things. _This_ was what was so fantastic about Shizu-chan. His routine may not vary, and their fights often followed a similar course, but it was moments like this — when Shizu-chan would do the unexpected — that never failed to alleviate Izaya's perpetual underlying boredom.   
  
Izaya stood his ground and watched as Shizu-chan came nearer and nearer until they were so close that their foreheads were touching and he could feel Shizu-chan's breath on his face, calloused knuckles brushing against his throat as he clutched the front of Izaya's shirt.  
  
"What the fuck do you want?" He spat lowly, his grip tightening until Izaya had to stand on his tiptoes to decrease the pressure.   
  
  
"Just passing through, Shizu-chan!" He sang cheerfully. "Aren't you happy to see me?"  
  
  
"Nobody would ever be happy to see you, you bastard — you're fucked in the head."  
  
  
"Ahh, that's not very nice, Shizu-chan! If you're not careful, you might hurt my feelings." He could feel his face heating with anticipation as he slid his fingers into the waistband of his jeans, expertly extracting his knife.   
  
  
"Feelings?" Shizuo scoffed "You don't have-"  
  
  
Izaya wrenched himself away and slashed his knife across Shizuo's chest in one swift movement, feet apart in a defensive stance. The blade hadn't quite followed the same trajectory as that first memorable knife wound, but he could see through the hole in Shizu-chan's shirt that the new mark overlapped with the old. 

Excellent.  
  
  
Beads of blood began to form, and Shizuo found himself balling his fist and aiming directly at Izaya's face. Izaya dodged and slashed at Shizuo again, creating another shallow cut that intersected with the new wound and the old scar. In the background Izaya could see Tom's face paling as he clutched his phone helplessly, ready to call Varona for assistance, no doubt.

"You fucking bastard! What's wrong with you?!" Shizuo made to grab Izaya's clothing again, but Izaya managed to avoid Shizuo's clutches and broke into a run.   
  
  
_This._ Thiswas the feeling that his dream had driven him to find. The accompanying surge of adrenaline eradicated the pain in his hipbone and brushed away the sluggish cobwebs of fever clinging to his brain. He could hear the air rushing past his ears as he powered on, turning down streets at random. He was going slightly slower than usual, but not intentionally. Even after the blood transfusion, he was finding it difficult to get enough air. Shizu-chan had always been slower than Izaya, so he was still safe, but the idea that he couldn't speed up for as long as he pleased was discomfiting. He focused on his breathing, trying to keep it as even as possible, but he was getting tired and the pain in his hip was coming back. He knew that he'd have to stop soon, but Shizu-chan (the belligerent fool) hadn't given up yet. Scanning his surroundings, he took a sharp right and sped up as much as possible, taking random turns in the labyrinth of backstreets to throw Shizu-chan off. When he could no longer hear the beast behind him he stopped, leaning heavily against a wall. He was sweating profusely. The piles of cardboard boxes in front of him were tilting up and down, as though somebody had put them on a seesaw, and the pain in his hipbone had increased to the point where even leaning against the wall was hurting him. His knees suddenly felt weak, and he fell back against the wall in alarm, the shooting pain that followed in combination with the dizziness causing him to dry heave.

He didn't need this. He didn't need Shizu-chan to make him feel alive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, an update. I hope that it was worth the wait. I found it really, really difficult to get going with this chapter, but the second half was much easier to write. I hope that I've managed to maintain some shred of their canon characters. Anyway, I may not be the best for regular updating (I know I suck), but I want to assure you that unless stated otherwise, this story isn't going to be abandoned ;)
> 
> On another small note, I think it kind of kills it when you have to explain it tbh but I'm going to anyway because I'm worried people will read this and just be like 'ugh! what's with the alternating '[' and '('s'. Basically, I've used '(' a per their usual function, to indicate additional details that aren't completely necessary, and '[' as Izaya's afterthoughts or thoughts that are very personal to him. '[' is also used for Celty's speech, but hopefully this is distinct from Izaya's as it only really crops up when Shinra is incessantly calling her his darling.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Any comments are always really appreciated x


	4. Needles and Pins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you ever heard of symbiosis, Shizu-chan?”
> 
> Shizuo scowled and loosened his grip slightly. “The fuck’s wrong with you? You’re even crazier than usual.”
> 
> “Shizu-chan can’t kill me because he can’t live without me .”

  
[But he did, and he knew it.]

 

The beast would come soon, and that’d be it. Shizu-chan would kill him, and on the cusp of death Izaya would feel more alive than he ever had. Transcendent. He would die in the knowledge that he had decided both his own fate and Shizu-chan’s, simultaneously glorifying in the fact that Shizu-chan would be caged as a monster and ostracized as a killer for the rest of his pitiful, meaningless life.

Eyeing the blood on the end of his blade, Izaya laughed bitterly. _Two gashes, Shizu-chan. Two measly gashes for every time you stood on my chest._  
_  
That’s hardly fair payment now, is it?_

 

_********_

 

Shizuo’s shoulders trembled with burgeoning rage, fists clenched and thumbs wrapped around his index and middle fingers in readiness to mash Izaya’s brains into the ground. The Flea had been going slower than usual — no doubt a new tactic to provoke him even further when the fake fur skimming his fingers was replaced by air, the louse taking off at an impressive speed. Tuning out everything but Izaya’s scent didn’t come as an option as Shizuo found himself following it on auto-pilot, the repetitive thoughts of spilt milkshake and ruined uniforms preventing him from seeing the uncharacteristic lack of fluidity in Izaya’s movements.  
  
When Shizuo found him Izaya was sat on the ground, legs splayed out before him and his back pressed into the wall as though he were part of it. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was breathing hard, but they opened immediately when he heard Shizuo, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  
"It seems that Shizu-chan's brain is too low capacity to understand that there's no use crying over spilt milk — aah, but I'm sure if it were capable of even the most basic comprehension, Shizu-chan's anger management problem would be solved."

"How many times do you want to say that shitty name in a sentence, you bastard?!"  
  
  
Izaya tilted his head to the side cockily, the movement changing the way that the afternoon sun hit his face. Shizuo could see a sheen of sweat across his forehead, his fringe damp and tangled.

 

"Does Shizu-chan ever stop to think about _why_ he's so annoyed, or do his primal urges overrule any independent thought?"

 

Shizuo paused momentarily, his eyes hardening. "You're seriously asking why I'm mad?" The incredulity in his voice teetered on the verge of laughter, and Izaya half expected him to lapse into it —  but, as always, Shizuo never met his expectations.

 

Crouching down, Shizuo grabbed the neck of Izaya’s coat, pulling him closer. “I’ll tell you why, Flea.” He was yanked to his feet in one swift motion, Shizuo’s grip on his shoulders driving him forcefully into the wall.

  
“My lunch break's ruined because of you. My work clothes are ruined because of you. There's blood on my shirt because of you. I've disappointed my senpai, _again_ , _because of you_."  Izaya bit back the urge to vomit as Shizuo punctuated each sentence by shaking him, the pain reaching an overwhelming crescendo as Shizuo ended his tirade by slamming him against the building. His bones jarred, his lip was bleeding and the voice that he so loved to hear washed over him without registering.  
  
"You'll never get it, will you? You can say I'm a 'beast' and that I'm not human all you like, but it's you that doesn't understand human feeling."

 

Izaya didn't reply, bowing his head and concentrating on breathing through his nose as tendrils of nausea began to creep up his throat.

 

"Nothing to say to that, have you? Finally admitting you're wrong?" Shizuo shook Izaya again, both disconcerted and pleasantly surprised by the lack of retort.  
  
“Shizu-chan attacked me first. You - you can’t expect to attack somebody and for them not to defend themselves.” Izaya swallowed thickly, raising his head to look into Shizuo’s eyes defiantly. “So the only person to blame for your ruined clothes is yourself. You dropped your own milkshake and disappointed your own senpai. Nobody asked you to chase me. Shizu-chan needs to start taking responsibility for - for his own actions.”  
  
“What fucking planet do you live on, Flea? In what fucking universe does somebody get _stabbed,_ framed for crime, _sent to prison_ , fired from _every fucking job_ , and not want justice? I _am_ taking responsibility.”

 

“Hah, and yet here I am — still alive. Do it, monster. Deal with your problems in the only way you know how.”

 

“...”

 

“I’m waiting, Shizu-chan.”

 

“Shut the fuck up!”

 

A sweaty palm wrapped around his throat and squeezed tightly for a few seconds, Shizuo’s grip releasing just as quickly.

 

“What shitty little game is this? Do you seriously want to get beaten up that badly?”

 

Quiet laughter transformed into a string of coughs, Izaya’s legs quivering as he struggled to stay upright. Shizuo’s scowl deepened, his fingernails digging deeper into Izaya’s shoulder blade. Eventually the coughing abated, and Shizuo flinched in surprise as Izaya ran a fingertip over his fresh cuts.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” He growled, slapping Izaya’s hand away angrily. “Stop trying to distract me and answer the fucking question! Why did you let me catch you?”

Izaya laughed again before dry heaving silently, his body jerking as he kept his mouth clamped firmly shut.  
  
“Have you ever heard of symbiosis, Shizu-chan?”

 

Shizuo scowled and loosened his grip slightly.

 

“The fuck’s wrong with you? You’re even crazier than usual.”  
  
  
“Shizu-chan can’t kill me because _he can’t live without me_.”

 

His hold on Izaya’s shirt was quickly released, disgust marring his features as Izaya crumpled to the ground.

 

“You’re chatting shit. The whole of ‘Bukuro knows it’d be better without you.”

 

“They’re humans, though. Shizu-chan is different. If Shizu-chan killed me, the current version of him would die with me. _Shizu-chan’s scared to kill me because he doesn’t know who he’d be without me_.”

 

Shizuo kicked the wall directly beside Izaya’s waist and watched with satisfaction as he recoiled.

“I'd be a better man if it weren’t for you.” He hissed quietly, plucking the knife from Izaya’s hand and throwing it behind him.

“You think you’re so fucking clever, Flea  — but I’ve got your shitty little plan all figured out. If I kill you I’ll end up in prison again, and everyone will think I’m a fucking monster just like you want them to. You piss me off again and again because you want to prove yourself right, huh? And I’m this close to snapping” Izaya watched in surprise as Shizuo pinched his thumb and forefinger together “but I’m not letting you get your way. You’re a worthless slimeball, and I could’ve killed you by now, but I won’t become the monster you want me to be.”

Izaya gazed up at Shizuo with glazed eyes before the hairline fractures in his mask cracked, his collected smirk replaced by a genuine smile. “Shizu-chan’s not as stupid as I thought, ne.” He croaked, toying with the hem of his coat. “Maybe you’re right, or perhaps I want Shizu-chan to save me from impending doom.”

 

The two enemies maintained eye contact, predator against predator, prey against prey, before Shizuo turned his back, exhaling heavily.

 

“You don’t deserve saving.”

 

Izaya remained where he was, his expression firmly planted and statuesque against the sun as he listened to Shizuo’s footsteps fade away.

 

“Hmm, I suppose it wasn’t my time today. Just as well  — the conditions aren’t optimal for a trip to Valhalla.”

 

************

 

Namie spent the next two days rejecting clients and answering phone calls from Shinra, the tension in the office escalating with Izaya’s frenzied behaviour. She had noticed the fleeting pain on his face as he moved around; the flashes of bruises and frequent conversations with Celty’s head. Hours of parading around outside were replaced by hours hunched over his laptop, the unceasing rhythm of clacking and clicking enough to drive anybody mad.

 

Izaya’s fight with Shizuo had resulted in serious bruising to his back, the pain in his hip worsened tenfold by being slammed into the wall so many times. The idea that Shizuo could have killed him was alarming, amusing— all just another game of his own design.

 

[But he couldn’t have got away. Not this time.]

 

He could tell from the bouts of shivering and the sweat sticking to his skin that his temperature was still elevated, strange dreams plaguing his sleep and daydreams melding with his waking moments. Focus was imperative, and it took Namie threatening to block Shinra’s number for him to wave her off with a half-hearted ‘you answer him’. Her resultant scowl and declaration of ‘delusional as ever’ to Shinra, who was presumably still on the line, marked the end of a long string of phone calls — hours of uncomfortable silence passing before the handset was handed to him wordlessly, Namie’s excessive lingering making it abundantly clear what awaited him on the other end of the line.

 

“Orihara Izaya speaking.”

 

_“Good afternoon, Orihara-san. My name is Saito Shunsuke, I’m one of the consultants with the Oncology department at the Tokyo University Hospital. I understand that you’ve recently had some tests on your bone marrow at the hospital. We’d like to discuss the results with you this afternoon.”_

 

“This afternoon?”

 

_“Yes. I understand that it’s short notice, but it’s important that you come in today if you can.”_

 

Izaya paused, watching Namie filing his shelves out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Very well.”

 

“ _Excellent. I’ve made an appointment for you at 12:30. Please come to the Oncology department then — I’ve informed reception that you’re expected, so you don’t need to worry about appointment letters.”_

Little over an hour later, Namie stopped organizing the papers on her desk to watch Izaya putting on his coat at the door.

 

“Is this about the bruises?”

 

He stiffened, invisible to other people — but Namie knew Izaya better than most. She could tell when he was upset or angry, when things weren’t going according to his twisted plans.

 

Izaya closed the door without an answer.

 

**********

 

Acute myeloid leukaemia. The diagnosis came in an overwhelming slurry of subtypes and prognoses, treatment options and chemotherapy drugs.

 

“I understand that your line of work could place you in a precarious position if you were to be admitted to hospital. The results from your blood test and bone marrow examination show that you have Acute myeloid leukaemia. Simply put, this means that your bone marrow is producing certain cells that aren’t developing as they should. The myeloid cells would usually differentiate into white blood cells called granulocytes and monocytes, and these cells protect the body against infection. You have the M1 subtype, which means that your myeloid cells have minimal maturation. With this subtype, there is a good chance that with you will recover with chemotherapy.”

 

“What stage am I at?”

 

“Leukaemia isn’t like other cancers: as a blood cancer, any tumours found are secondary. Instead we work off subtypes based on an analysis of the cells produced in the bone marrow. I’ve spoken to Kishitani-sensei, and if you’re happy to go forward with it I can liaise with him to offer you treatment at his practice.”

 

“And what happens if I don’t agree to treatment?”

  
“I’ll be frank with you, Orihara-san. Without treatment you will die in a matter of months. Perhaps less. It is entirely your decision. If you do choose to go ahead with treatment, we will have to insert a tube or a portacath into your chest to deliver the chemotherapy. The first stage of treatment is called the induction phase: one drug will be given continuously for seven days, and another during the first three days only. You’ll have a break for a week, and then you’ll have another bone marrow examination. This will decide whether or not you need a further consolidation course. If not, the third week will be focused on the side-effects caused by the induction phase. You will require regular antibiotics and red blood cell transfusions up to twice a week, and platelet transfusions up to three times a week. On the fourth week of treatment, your blood count will usually have recovered, and if everything is going according to plan we’ll send you home for two weeks, meaning that you’ll be in hospital for approximately a month before you are able to go home. It will be very important during this time that you stay in hospital, as the chemotherapy will make you highly prone to infection. If there are no complications you’ll have consolidation therapy for five days and blood transfusions twice a week. Most patients have four cycles of this consolidation therapy, so you’ll be able to go home in between."

Izaya frowned, drumming his fingers on his knee. 

 

"Is taking antibiotics at home after the first week and returning to Shinra's for further testing not an option?"

 

"I'm afraid that this would be a highly unadvisable course of action, Orihara-san. Your treatment in the first week will leave you immunocompromised, and it will be important to keep you as far away from possible sources of infection as possible during the first month."  
  
  
"I see."  
  
  
"Orihara-san, are you happy to complete your treatment with Kishitani-sensei?"

 

"Happy is a peculiar way of putting it, don't you think?"

 

Shunsuke turned to his desk, scribbling down notes to send to Shinra.

 

"I'm curious, Saito-sensei — how do you know Shinra?"

 

Izaya leant forwards, one leg crossed over the other, his chin resting on his hand and his foot jiggling.

 

"Let's just say that he's an old acquaintance of mine."

 

"An old acquaintance? Ahh, but how do you expect me to believe you when this could quite easily be a fabrication? You could be using a false diagnosis as a guise to use life-threatening drugs against me. It would be simple enough for you to cover up, and I have plenty of enemies willing to pay the fee. After all, you're a consultant, aren't you — why would you involve yourself with a patient on such short notice, and even offer to _assist with treatment_ at the home of an _unlicensed_ doctor? Surely you know that this could jeopardize your career?"

Shunsuke took a sip of coffee, polishing his glasses on his lab coat carefully.  
  
  
"Let's just say that I owe Kishitani-sensei a favour."  
  
  
"A favour big enough to undo years of training? My, you are a fascinating creature — or would be, if there was any truth behind your words."  
  
  
"I'm a man of integrity. I know that this is bad news, Orihara-san, but there is no chance of you getting better if you refuse to accept your diagnosis and agree to a treatment plan."  
  
  
"Funny, I remember Shinra saying a similar thing; and you see, Saito-sensei, Shinra is full of lies. He's hiding a head from his dullahan girlfriend. He's assisted all sorts of covert operations. I'm sure that if I told you all of the terrible things that Shinra has done, you'd forget his favour instantly..."

"I prefer not to rely on second hand information, Orihara-san. As an information broker, I'm sure that you understand that. What we have here, however, is first hand information: your symptoms corroborate your diagnosis. A healthy person does not simultaneously experience bruising, nausea, weight loss, recurrent fevers and repeated infections. I'm sure that you understand that."  
  
[A healthy person shouldn't be able to smoke more than twenty cigarettes a day and be fine. A healthy person shouldn't be able to lift 400kg without blinking an eyelid. A healthy...]

Izaya blinked, appalled. Had had truly just compared Shizu-chan to a human being? It was laughable, entirely laughable. Perhaps he needed his head fixing whilst he was at it...  
  
  
"I'd like copies of the reports, if you will. I give you permission to communicate any necessary information to Shinra."  
  
  
Izaya got to his feet abruptly, making his way to the door. For the second time that day, he found himself stopped.  
  
  
"I wouldn't make such careless allegations against Kishitani-sensei if I were you, Orihara-san. He will be the one treating you."   
  
  
"Yes, I suppose he will."  


Izaya smirked as he made his way out of the room. Whether or not it was real, few people would know. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fan fiction quality commission has deemed the second half of this chapter to SUCK ABSOLUTE BALLS, and offers apologies on behalf of the author. (Also my punctuation is appalling? I'm very dash happy recently.)
> 
> On a more serious note, I realize that Izaya wouldn't have heard Shinra saying "I'm a man of integrity" as this was the conversation between the detectives and Shinra in the anime, but I wanted to add it in. Who knows, maybe he has tabs on Shinra's phone (probably tbh, I can imagine him being so desperate to learn about the next hotpot party he'd hack Shinra's phone.)
> 
> Also I have introduced a dreaded OC! He will most likely have no role after this chapter, but he was necessary 'cause Shinra isn't a super doctor and he can't do everything. I also like the idea of Shinra having a few people under his thumb, because we all know he can be super manipulative.
> 
> Finally, this chapter is titled after one of my favourite Deftones songs. I can't listen to it anymore without thinking of Shizuo and Izaya fighting. I'm sure that if you look up the lyrics you'll understand why ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I really appreciate any comments and feedback that I receive, so please let me know what you think! x


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